


Fair Play

by rent_a_gundam, rubyofkukundu



Series: Rent-a-Gundam [50]
Category: Gundam & Related Fandoms, Gundam 00
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dubious Consent, First Time, Incest, M/M, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rent_a_gundam/pseuds/rent_a_gundam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyle and Neil try penetration for the first time. But everything between them always degenerates into a competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Play

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the sprawling Rent-a-Gundam series: a university/rent-boy!AU that was co-written by Veda, Auto, Orange and Typo.
> 
> Only a portion of the RAG fics have been posted on AO3. For all other fics in the series, check out the Rent-a-Gundam journal: <http://rent-a-gundam.livejournal.com>
> 
> ***
> 
> This particular story was written by Veda (rubyofkukundu).
> 
> Originally posted here: <http://rent-a-gundam.livejournal.com/75702.html>

There's a first time for everything.  
  
At least, that's what they say.  
  
Lyle is starting to despair that it'll ever happen though. Fifteen years old and he's never fucked anybody. Not anyone. And it's not for want of trying either. Jesus Christ, if he could count all the times he's almost made it, only to have his advances fly in his fucking face. Even when Stacey Robertson had let him finger her in the alleyway behind the science building, she had suddenly upped and left before Lyle could get any further.  
  
Fucking frigid girls and their mixed signals.  
  
And so Lyle takes his frustrations out on his brother, because he can.  
  
Most times this results in an argument between the two of them, and Neil is always so fucking quick to fly off the handle at the smallest thing that it often degenerates into a full-on fight, with both of them scrapping it out, fists and feet, until someone comes to break it up or they wear themselves out. But at other times it works in a different way; their violence replaced by another passion entirely; the two of them sweaty and sticky and trembling, legs tangled together and cocks in hand, panting it out into each other's shoulders.  
  
Today is one of the latter, and Neil and Lyle are both crowded onto Lyle's bed, gasping and pushing against each other, lube-slicked cocks caught in a shared grip. Luckily, they've got the house to themselves for a while, so they're at liberty to take their time. Lyle does. He makes the most of it, moving his hand slowly, keeping the pressure light, almost non-existent. Neil follows suit of course, going even slower if that's possible, until the two of them are locked in a battle to see who's touch can be the lightest and most infuriating.  
  
Why oh why does everything between them always degenerate into a competition?  
  
If Lyle's finding the slow pace a little frustrating, Neil must be too. They both pretend that they can handle it, but Lyle can tell from the way Neil's huddled close, like he'd burrow right into Lyle if he had the chance, breath warm and moist against Lyle's chin and hair damp against Lyle's cheek, that Neil is almost at the edge of his tether. Truthfully, Lyle's faring little better than Neil, and he shivers, stifling a whine in his throat, as Neil's thumb traces a slick, lazy path over the head of his cock.  
  
After another second or two, Lyle decides that, fuck this, he's tired of this game, so he yanks their hips together, one hand on Neil's ass, and grinds into his brother as hard as he can.  
  
Neil shudders in a very satisfying way, and pants out, "Fuck," against Lyle's jaw.  
  
Lyle grins, thrown off-kilter for a moment as Neil grinds back, but he still tries to hold their hips tight together, lube-slicked hand on Neil's ass squeezing unintentionally hard in an attempt to keep purchase.  
  
Unexpectedly, Neil makes a tiny, little pleased sound at the back of his throat at that. And so, just to see what happens, Lyle squeezes Neil's ass again, deliberately this time. Neil moans.  
  
It's impossible for Lyle to hide his amusement; his brother is such a fucking faggot. He tells Neil as much, and is rewarded with the feel of Neil grinning against his neck.  
  
"You got a problem with that?" asks Neil, voice muffled.  
  
"No," replies Lyle, a plan forming in his mind. He wonders if--  
  
Lyle bites his lip and slides the hand on Neil's ass further, until he has a slick finger pressing against Neil's entrance.  
  
Neil goes to say something, Lyle can tell, because he can feel Neil's mouth open against his skin, but the only thing that comes out is a moan, hot and sticky against Lyle's neck, as Lyle suddenly pushes his finger up and inside.  
  
It must feel good. Lyle knows it must. He's done this to himself enough times to know. And Neil writhes in a pleased way, making a strange kind of low noise that Lyle's never heard him make before.  
  
Why it's taken Lyle so long to do this with Neil, Lyle has no idea.  
  
So, spurred on by the response, Lyle keeps going. He thrusts his finger slickly, curling it just a little, and he's rewarded by the feel of Neil's skin shivering against his own, and the feel of Neil panting hot against his collarbone.  
  
Lyle swallows and licks his lips as Neil's hands scrabble to find purchase against Lyle's hips. Neil is shaking and uncoordinated, and as Lyle thrusts his finger faster, he feels Neil's cock grow even harder against his belly.  
  
"You fucking love this," says Lyle into Neil's hair. He pushes a second slick finger into the heat of Neil's body and gasps as Neil clenches around him and makes that funny low noise again.  
  
Neil doesn't deny the allegation, just pants harshly as Lyle keeps thrusting. Lyle's own cock grows harder in response, turned on by the strength of his brother's arousal.  
  
"You fucking love it," says Lyle again. "You love to feel my fingers in your ass," he shudders a little as he feels Neil press a kiss to the base of his neck, "fucking you hard."  
  
Neil writhes desperately and Lyle adds another finger, biting his lip as he hears Neil moan. Neil is so hard against him, and Lyle is hard too, both of them grinding slickly against each other, and Lyle is close but-- Neil makes that low noise again and Lyle's own words roil inside his head: _fucking you hard, fucking you hard, fucking you hard_.  
  
 _Fucking you hard._  
  
"Neil," breathes Lyle, saying the words before he can even think about them, "let me fuck you. Properly."  
  
At any other time, Neil might have made it into a competition. Might have laughed and said, 'Not if I fuck you first!' Might have joked about it. But not now. Not with Lyle's fingers in his ass and Neil shuddering all over. No, right now, with his face flushed when he looks up and his pupils wide, all Neil says is, "Please."  
  
Well, there's nothing Lyle can say to that. Somewhere in-between his question and Neil's response, Lyle has grown harder than he even thought possible. He pulls his fingers out of Neil without ceremony and fumbles to get Neil into position. Neil gives a little whimper of disappointment, but he's eager enough to oblige as Lyle rolls him to lie on his back.  
  
Lyle scrambles on top of his brother, almost falling over his own limbs in his haste to _do this, do this, do this, fuck him now._ Neil spreads his legs helpfully and lifts his hips, and he's looking up at Lyle, but Lyle doesn't bother to pay attention because he's too busy positioning his slick cock at Neil's entrance and pushing slowly inside.  
  
Now Lyle looks up, and he sees emotions flash across Neil's face; eyes widening, then closing, mouth falling open, panting hard, but Lyle notices it all behind too much of a haze of _oh Jesus, fuck yes_ to really care. Neil is so fucking tight, and so fucking warm, that once Lyle is in as far as he can go, buried right up to the hilt, he wishes he could stay like it forever.  
  
But Lyle knows that he can't stay like it forever. Not really. Not when every sinew in his body is urging him to _move move move_. Neil moans darkly, from somewhere, and Lyle moans too, the sound muffled as Lyle's lips clash with Neil's of their own accord, the kiss messy and sticky, tongues fighting for dominance. And it's _then_ that Lyle moves, pulling out and thrusting back in, blissfully. _Blissfully_. He thrusts once, twice, and suddenly Neil's clenching tight around him, coming all over his own stomach, and there's not anything Lyle can do to stop himself from coming too.  
  
Lyle collapses down onto Neil's chest, gasping for breath, and doesn't fucking move. Neil might want a taste of the semen that's sandwiched between them, but Lyle doesn't give a toss. He's still floating on a cloud of fucking euphoria and _fuck yes, that was the best orgasm of his life, hands down. HANDS DOWN._ He's not moving for anybody. Especially not for Neil.  
  
***  
  
As it turns out, Lyle doesn't really come down from the high of his orgasm at all. Not properly. It stays all night, and half the next day. He can hardly stop thinking about it; going over the sight and the feel of Neil in his head.  
  
Lyle had never planned to lose his virginity to his brother, but, fuck that, he doesn't care. What matters is that it was _amazing_. Those frigid girls can wait for as long as they like, because now Lyle has Neil to tide him over. And he's sure that Neil won't mind doing it with him again; the look on Neil's face and the noises he was making suggest that Neil enjoyed the experience just as much as Lyle did.  
  
Fuck, Lyle even wonders if Neil will let them do it again tonight. Maybe he will. No harm in asking.  
  
So it's with a plan in his mind and a song on his lips that Lyle returns home that afternoon. He dumps his bag, kicks off his shoes, and glances into the living room far enough to note that they've got the house to themselves once more.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Only, there's one flaw in Lyle's plan, which is that it requires Neil as a willing participant. The trouble is not that Neil is not willing, but more that, when Lyle enters their shared room, Neil isn't there. Or rather, as Lyle finds out pretty quickly, Neil is there, but he's hiding behind the doorway, and he pounces on Lyle as soon as Lyle's inside, tackling Lyle to the bed, face first, Lyle's arm twisted uncomfortably behind his back.  
  
"Jesus, Neil!" Lyle struggles and kicks, but Neil's holding him down with all his weight. "I'm not in the mood for a fucking fight right now!"  
  
Neil laughs at him. "Who said anything about fighting?"  
  
Lyle goes to ask, "What the fuck?" but Neil presses him further into the mattress as he does so, and all Lyle gets is a mouthful of the bedclothes instead.  
  
"Now," continues Neil, regardless of the fact that Lyle doesn't give a rat's ass about anything he has to say, "seeing as how I was kind enough to let _you_ fuck _me_ yesterday, I think it's only fair that this time you let _me_ fuck _you_."  
  
Lyle manages to raise his head enough to spit a petulant, "Fuck off!" in Neil's direction, but Neil just laughs and twists Lyle's arm a little further and _Jesus, fuck, ow_. Then Neil's hand weasels its way under Lyle's hips to undo Lyle's flies and tug Lyle's trousers and underpants down like Lyle is nothing more than some kind of cheap faggot whore.  
  
And Lyle is _not_ getting hard at that thought.  
  
Neil goes quiet for a few moments, and Lyle wishes to God that he could see what Neil was doing, or even, see anything beyond the hazy pale blue of the bedsheets. He tries to struggle some more, just for good measure, but Neil's still on guard and presses Lyle further into the bed for his trouble.  
  
Accepting that he's not going to get out of this easily, Lyle waits, and tries to ready himself for what's coming.  
  
And Lyle is most definitely _not_ aroused, and he's _not_ breathing hard, and he _certainly doesn't_ gasp when he feels Neil's cock press against his entrance, slick and hard. Except he kinda does.  
  
Then Neil thrusts inside and it's not like it was yesterday at all. There's no preparation beforehand, no fingering, and Neil doesn't go tentatively like Lye did. No, Neil thrusts in hard and fast and Lyle can hardly breathe. _It hurts like a fucking bitch_ , and Lyle goes from slightly aroused to rock hard, straining against the bedsheets for reasons he doesn't quite understand.  
  
Neil continues as he started; he pulls out and thrusts back in quickly, again and again and again. Somewhere along the line, Lyle's arm has been released, but Lyle doesn't struggle. He can't. All he can do is cling onto the sheets and try to keep breathing. It's not anything like fingering himself, except it is, but harder and thicker and fuller, and it feels so fucking good that Lyle can't do anything else except just _feel_.  
  
Every thrust pushes Lyle's cock into the bedcovers, and Neil doesn't slow the pace at all. No, if anything, Neil speeds up. Lyle's heart is beating fast in his mouth. He can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't ever want it to end.  
  
Lyle moans through clenched teeth, shaking, and he comes all over the sheets beneath him.  
  
Neil's panting harshly. It's the first thing Lyle notices when he can finally think again. He swallows thickly and tries to take in his surroundings. The second thing Lyle notices is that Neil is still fucking hard. He'd slowed when Lyle was coming, but now he starts thrusting again, tempo building until he's fucking Lyle just as fast as he was before.  
  
Lyle whines and has to clutch onto the bedsheets with both hands to ground himself. It's, _fuck_ , it's too much, it's-- Jesus-- Lyle can't do anything. Neil keeps going, hard and fast and fucking-- fucking-- Lyle gasps for breath like a drowning man, back bowing, forehead pressed into the sheets, almost overwhelmed by it all.  
  
Neil laughs, or says something, but Lyle hardly hears it over the slick noise of Neil's cock and the creak of the mattress. And Neil's blunt nails are digging sharp into Lyle's hips, but Lyle doesn't even care because Neil keeps thrusting, fast and brutal, and it's good, _so good_. Lyle shudders all over, fisting his hands in the bedcovers, and he wonders if it's possible for him to come again already. It feels like he might. There's a pressure inside him, building and building, and if it keeps on building, Lyle doesn't know if he's going to come or pass out or both.  
  
Then Neil laughs again, and Lyle hears it this time, because Neil accompanies it by a smack to Lyle's ass with his palm, like Lyle is some kind of _bitch_ , and Lyle wants to tell Neil to 'Fuck off', but finds that all he can do is moan into the sheets like the _fucking slut whore_ that he is.  
  
The nails on Lyle's hips dig in further-- fuck _fuck_ \-- and Lyle shivers and sucks in a jagged breath because Neil is coming and Lyle can fucking feel it and-- _fuck_.  
  
Neil stops, finally, and half-collapses on top of Lyle, breathing fast. As soon as Lyle can catch hold of his thoughts, he finds that he hasn't come for a second time, and he dimly realises that he's barely even hard. But he hasn't passed out either, although his consciousness wavers threateningly for a second as he lies there and pants like a fucking marathon runner or something.  
  
Eventually, Neil shifts and pulls out. A hand is placed on Lyle's shoulder and he hears Neil say, like the smug shit that he is, "Have fun? Want me to fuck you again sometime?"  
  
Lyle bristles with the desire to give a witty retort and call his brother an asshole, but he finds that he doesn't have the energy to do so.  
  
Neil sniggers, like a bastard.  
  
So Lyle gives him the finger instead.[](http://statcounter.com/)


End file.
